An image blog of women in stockings with a focus of erotica but with the odd, nay I say, regular dalliance into NSFW territory. Focusing on models, nylons, vintage, Asian, Ebony, nudes, panties, Canada, lingerie, hose, BDSM, D/s, and other and sundry subjects for my readers' enjoyment.

Oh, sure, she's been posting all these images to her commitment to celebrate 10,000 visitors to her web site! But then she looses track and, alas, we benefit from it. So, to Stocking Vixen: Keep up the good work! We like mistakes like this!

The inspiration of this poem was a young, attractive Asian woman I saw in the parking lot at work. I was outside on break enjoying a mesmerizing day as the weather was summer-like and she must have been taking advantage of the weather. Oh my... long jet black hair. A simple little black dress and red high heels very much like the ones in the image. She could barely walk in them but I surmise from observing her boyfriend clutching her hip that she was wearing the shoes for him. Lucky man!But I have to admit a smile creeped across my face watching her. [And yes, I barely noticed the lucky sod. Seriously he was really only in the periphery.] She made her stuttering progress across the parking lot and I could only think of one thing: "Thems definitely are fuck me shoes."

I admit having a crush on Megan Fox. Completely unknown to me until the movie Transformers came out I was immeadiately taken to her striking features.

I am certainly not obsessed but when visiting Stocking Addict's blog I happened on an image that made me do a bit of a look see. Headed of to Just Jared and grabbed some of my favourites and had to post them.

The movie is Jonah Hex and appears to be in the horror genre, not one of my faves to be sure. But all the same I may just rent it to see Megan. The plot synopis so far is:

In the Wild West, a scarred bounty hunter tracks a voodoo practitioner bent onliberating the South by raising an army of the undead.

Saturday, April 25, 2009

I won't go into all the gory details but suffice to say that if you want to lose your virginity try NOT to do it in the front passenger seat of a 1980 Honda Civic. In fact, I did not loose my virginity in that car but beside it.

Which brings me to a remembrance...

S and I were driving back from a game of hockey I had played in. The plan was to play some hockey with da' boys as our girlfriends watched and then head over to a friend's place to do a bit of partying. On the way from the arena to the party S insists I follow her directions and I do, curious as to why since I am driving in my hometown which S has little familiarity with. It patently becomes obvious her intent: Her directions have lead us to a local city park famous for being a make out area. The irony being that we boys used to deliberately pass through the parking spots late a night to see what we could see. Infantile and childish I know but remember this was before the Internet and how else are teen aged boy/men supposed to satisfy their voyeuristic tendencies?

Now I have to admit some trepidation. Here are two conflicting goals. One is that I am probably going to get very lucky and the other is I am probably going to be a victim of pubescent voyeurs that may see us and tease me mercilessly. Plus there is a GOOD chance I may know them. As I turned into the access road leading the the parking spot I was announciating my 'no's' to S but she simply swept my fears away by sliding her hand onto my thigh and moving her hand suggestively.

The good news... I was not victim to my fears.

So we park and begin to enjoy each others' company, as it were. Eventually things move toward their logical conclusion. I have now moved the front seatback rearward to make room for the dirty deed and we have shed our pants, since it was winter. Must have been quite a sight - two people making love with parkas on.

We are rapt in the mutual enjoyment of our coupling when I notice something. There is a red mark on S's face. Well, not a mark but a reflection. I rise up to see what could possibly be the source of the reflection while S is say, " Don't stop now. I am almost there." Slowly my head rises until I am staring into the face of a police officer!

"S, we have to stop!" I whisper, my head sliding down to her ear to whisper.

"No. No."

"Yes, now," I hiss.

S is perplexed and her eyes widen. "Cop," I bleat out and she gives a short yelp and knocks me down into the footwell in her efforts to retrieve her pants and become decent for our visitor. There is nothing more awkward than two teenagers interferito nell'atto.

S sat in the driver's seat sullen and focused on some unseen but very important point in space in front of the car while the police officer interrogated me about "what had been going on." Satisfied that it was not a rape in progress he suggested we move on and waited for us to drive away.

Not at all!3 (14%)AnalysisClearly the majority agree that panties should be worn over top of the garter belt while a sassy (though the largest minority) think they should not be worn at all. Since the overall sample size is rather small, at only 21 response I can conclude that more research needs to be done by me.

Grade 9 was an interesting year for me. I had the privilege of going to a private school as a boarder and had a number of adventures. It was a school very simular to that portrayed in Dead Poets Society and its classes were populated by such decidedly English names like Coffin, Faggan, Woodcock etc. We, in Lower School had to wear unforms and the the Lower School was not coed.

Upper School was coed. At least grade 13 was. There was a limited intake of female day students of good old Anglo-Saxon or WASP stock. About 6 I think out of a class of 75. For a whole school year that was my only female contact, save our school nurse and the cleaning staff as all the Masters were male (except our art teacher).

We had to go to church services every day. From Monday to Friday we went for a morning service and the day students went too. Yes, we had school 6 days a week! Church service was the only time we got to see the sacred six girls and one of them was a STUNNING blonde who had physically matured past the age of a teenager. Since Upper School did not have to wear uniforms (except the blue school blazer and grey slacks on Sundays and special occasions) the girls were required to wear dresses or a skirt.

The subject of my admiration always sat in the same pew and it was a fight of the Lower School Senior Form to get a seat in the pew closest to her. We would try to get to church early and before she arrived so we could watch her glide down the aisle to her assigned seat. That 30 seconds was heaven for us boys during our sexual awakening!

Sunday, April 19, 2009

One of the things I remember as a young person, and I mean grade school, it that at that time the female teachers wore what were almost mini skirts. One teacher in particular, Ms. Bieriens, wore dark hose and Go Go boots to school. Though I was not cognizant of it at the time I think that perhaps that is why she was one of my favourite teachers.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Sometimes you would be waiting for me. I would take the world's shortest ferry ride and then up Bathurst Street to Queen. A trolley ride home to our haven just of the corner of Queen and Woodbine would deposit me but metres from you. My footsteps would quicken just as my pulse willing myself to you.

I'd see the light on in the living room and know you had stayed up for me. I would enter as quietly as possible and swing into the shower to wash my day off so I could be fresh for you. You would hear me, of course, and then my expectation would really pique. Would you join me now or make me wash and towel off to come to you?

If it was the former the shower curtain would part and you would join me. We would kiss tenderly laughing at the shower stream pulsing on our faces. Sometimes you were naked, you wonderful body pressing to me and our tight embrace belying our mutual need. Sometimes you wore your stockings and their wet sheen would accentuate your legs.

If it was the latter, I would towel off and my body would show my arousal for you. Walking... no... padding to the living room I would find you, the down comforter lying at the side of the couch. Oh, how you hated to be cold. But you would be there open to me. Sometimes feigning sleep. Sometimes touching yourself for us. Sometimes on your knees.

Whatever fatigue I had would be gone. I always had energy for us. Energy and passion reflected back unto me.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Lisa stood blindfolded in the stark sunlight. She could feel the heat emanating from the desert rock near her. A soft rustling noise made her head start and she turned slowly towards the noise careful to not wrench her ankle as her stiletto heels offered her little support on the rocky footing.

Then she felt a new heat and a hand take hers and place it flat on warm, smooth skin. She felt the hardness of rippled muscles and the hand softly holding her wrist slid her palm down slowly. Her palm slid over something and her fingers curled instinctively over the demarcation of skin and nylon. She pulled at it playfully and let go, her ears expectant for that SNAP. It came and she shuddered.

Then pressure on her shoulders and she let her body fold slowly to the ground: the grit and dirt embedding into her knees. Her wrists were held and guided again around the body and placed on the smooth nylon. She could feel the rhythmic flexing of his muscles and a more intense heat began to grow in her.

Her wrists were freed and in the silence and solitude of the desert she began to run her hands down his thighs to his calves and up again. She looked up wishing to see him but knowing she could wait. Her other senses tingled and her hands smoothly and lightly moved up while using her fingernails to scribe gentle random patterns over his legs.He sighed, shuddered and uttered her name softly.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

This image actually is what Mary's legs looked like though, sadly, it is not her.

Mary you walked in today at my workplace in your black shiny patent pumps and your coordinated black business suit with that wonderous pencil skirt that accentuated your body. But it was your legs that entranced me! Perfect calves. I could tell the hose you were wearing were not cheap pantyhose but expensive. Nude in colour they encased your legs which had no imperfections.